


Crop Top Cocked Up

by Grand Buzz (quodpersortem)



Series: What A Wasters - 1D Wanklets [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Body Appreciation, Crop Top, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay, Other, Self-Love, Solo, Teasing, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4561230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/Grand%20Buzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis hates doing laundry, to the extent that he'd rather wear a bleeding crop top in an attempt to save himself from the chore until Harry gets back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crop Top Cocked Up

Louis always has wanted to be the kind of bloke who has his life together. Chaos-free, eating healthy, doing the dishes and the laundry in time—

But oh, who is he kidding.

He’s not, and he’s got Harry with him to help out with cleaning up, cooking and doing his laundry. Which is why it’s a bit of a general disaster in their flat right now, a pile of dirty laundry next to the overflowing hamper and no clean shirts left for Louis to wear.

Although—and that’s what he’s debating now, amidst the ketchup-stained jumpers and the shirt he wore while running into a pond—there’s the crop top Niall got him ages ago. It was a joke, something Niall muttered about spending too long on Tumblr with Liam, but it should be better than putting on the same smelly clothes he’s been wearing for days now that he’s freshly showered.

He pulls out the black-and-grey jumper, and really, it looks like something Lottie would wear.

Right now Louis is glad he never got rid of it, pulling the top on and immediately feeling quite a bit warmer. The hem trails around his waist and it feels a little odd, but it doesn’t even look half bad, Louis decides as he looks into the mirror.

_Not half bad_ , no.

He trails through the house for a while, picking up some rubbish from one place and putting it away somewhere else, eating a couple of slices of cold pizza and fetching a cup of tea before he falls down on the couch, dropping his phone on the seat next to him.

He reckons he could play a round of FIFA, but Louis is feeling lazy and he prefers playing with mates anyway. And anyway, the scratchy material of the top has his nipples hardened to little buds. It’s not annoying, really, but it’s distracting and Louis finds himself switching the TV on a music channel, idly (but not so absent-mindedly) playing with his nipple through the top while he sips at his tea.

Anyway yeah—yeah, Louis wishes he was one of the blokes that have any semblance of self control.

Instead it only takes minutes before he’s chubbed up in his shorts, and with his eyes closed he slips his hand under the top to pinch at his nipple properly.

The loose-fitting and coarse material feels good against his body as he writhes against the couch, arching his back a little so he can grind his arse down and pretend he’s in Harry’s lap. It has him hard in no time, sweat pricking at the back of his neck already.

“Bloody— _fuck_ ,” he curses quietly—but there’s no stopping him now. His body is thrumming already, restless and excited and the only way this will end is with his tummy covered in come. He lifts his arse from the couch, briefly wondering if he should continue teasing himself through his shorts before he decides that, _no_ , this way there’ll be less dirty laundry. He slips the shorts halfway down his thighs, and the cool air hitting the hot skin of his cock feels good enough to make his eyes roll back momentarily.

Louis keeps playing with his nipples for a while, watching how good his body looks as he pushes his cock up into the air, hearing it slap against his tummy while it smears precome against his skin.  He feels so _sexy_ , is the thing, all the words Harry’s told him reverberating in his mind, the curves of his body more gentle as he stretches his body, digging his heels into the carpet and lifting his arse off the couch by grinding his shoulders into the backrest of the couch as hard as he can.

It helps spread the lovely, lovely feeling through his body, and when he sits back down, relaxing, he finally curls his hand around his cock. Louis starts out slow, stroking his foreskin over the head and then dragging it back down, tugging at it as he slides his hand down to the base. It’s a little dry but he likes it like that, likes the way he knows he’ll get his tugs more wet as the head of his cock will start dripping out more precome soon.

He’s gasping, and then remembers that Harry always tells him that _orgasms are better when you let out all the noises you want to make, love_. Something loosens in his chest, and when he rubs his thumb over the head of his dick he moans, his thighs trembling with how good it feels.

Louis can feel his orgasm approach already, his cock slicking up quickly when he jerks his hand back down, so he cups his balls with his free hand and tugs at them lightly to stave off the tightening of the coil of pleasure in his stomach. It means his legs are spread, only his toes and the balls of his feet touching the carpet anymore as he starts to fuck his hips up into the tight fist he’s making.

He’s gasping and groaning throughout, and while his orgasm builds so sweetly in his lower belly, tightening all of his muscles, he’s still able to take away both hands before he’s actually pushing himself too far.

Opening his eyes, Louis lets himself breathe for a little while. There’s still the pleasure coursing through his body, his cock the centre of his thoughts where it lies against his tummy. The head of his dick rests against is the soft slope of his tummy, the skin smooth and tan and smeared with precome, some of it already going a bit dry and flaky and some of it still wet where his cock keeps dripping slick. His hard-on almost touches the hem of the crop top when he’s sitting down like this, and he wonders what it would be like to fuck his cock against, _into_ the rough material.

His dick twitches at the thought, even as he figures, _maybe another time. Maybe when Harry watches,_ as it may be a little too filthy for him to deal with on his own.

By the time Louis figures he won’t come the instant he touches himself, he slides his hand back around his cock. This time, he keeps his fingers wrapped around the base, the stimulation dulled because he’s avoiding to touch the head. Pulling at his balls helps a little against the tightness in his tummy, already building back up. This time he stops early enough that he can leave the hand on his balls as he comes back down, gently moving his fingers until his middle finger is gently pressing against his perineum.

Louis is properly sweating by now, leaving damp marks on the jogging material of his shorts around the waistband. He can feel little droplets of sweat drip from his hair down the sides of his face, and from the top of his back down his spine to the swell of his bum. The shallow line across his stomach where the softness gives in to flat planes has gathered droplets of sweat too. It makes him feel a little dirty, which in turn makes him press his finger down more firmly against the soft skin behind his balls.

He’s gasping even before he starts wanking his cock again, going even slower than before because the coil in his body didn’t unwind at all this time around. For a second he gives in to what he wants most, moving his hand fast and firm on his cock before he’s grappling at the couch with both hands, moaning and gasping and quite probably leaving sticky marks as he fucks his hips into the air with his dick twitching against his tummy, his toes curled into the carpet.

Louis is surprised he’s even made it this far without Harry’s help, but he knows that he can’t go another round. He’s fairly sure that no matter how long he waits, the moment he touches himself again, he’s going to be coming. His balls are drawn up tight to his body and he needs to, needs to, _needs to_.

His body is prickling with sweat as he waits another moment to cool down, wiping at his forehead with his sleeve to keep the it from dripping into his eyes.

It takes a long time before he feels like he’s actually breathing again, his body cooling down a little even as his cock still lies proudly between his legs, hard and flushed and swollen at the head, which has almost gone purple by now.

“Fuck,” he mutters. Louis is sure he’s come while feeling less horny before.

He just closes his fist around his dick when he starts back up, keeping it still as he rolls his balls under his free hand, making sure to press against his perineum every so often. Louis is still hurtling towards his orgasm, and he doesn’t want to ruin it by not stimulating himself enough but he fears that right now, wanking off might actually be too much because he’s so hard, _so hard_. _“_ Fuck” he curses, his hips twitching up again.

Instead he pulls up his foreskin a little, before pinching three fingers down just under the head of his cock. It means the tip of his index finger is pressing against his fraenulum, sending sharp pleasure down his cock and accelerating the coiling in his tummy.

“Oh god,” he gasps, moaning loudly as he can _see_ his cock twitch. It forces him to hold his cock as tight as he can, and then he’s coming, spilling over his stomach while he rubs at the little sensitive nub through his foreskin. All of the feelings coursing through his body reduce to exaggerated pleasure, white-hot and all encompassing, and it feels like his orgasm continues for ages—far longer than it should have.

With every spurt of come, Louis’ cock spasms hard and it means he needs to slide his fingers down to rest at the base at some point through, too sensitive to keep his thumb against the most sensitive spot of his _body_  right now. Instead he rubs at his perineum, extending the orgasm until he’s calm enough to open his eyes and still see little bubbles of come dribble from his slit, his cock still twitching minutely.

Eventually, that too becomes too much for him to handle so he relaxes back onto the couch, taking his hands off himself and wiping away the sweat on his face once more. Louis’ legs feel unsteady, and he’s not sure if he wants to try walking. The orgasm has forced all energy out of his body, and it is honestly like he’s just played a footie match and won the cup.

He’s a bit of a mess honestly, the semen pooling on his tummy. A couple of drops have caught on the hem of his top but he thinks he can get them out with a little rinse quite easily.

Instead of getting up and doing so right away, Louis first grabs his phone and opens up his camera. He snaps a quick shot of his stomach, letting his hand wrap loosely around the base for a better impact, and sends it off to Harry.

Then he shucks off his shorts and his pants, and lifts the crop top over his head to not dirty it up any more before he walks to the bathroom to clean.

 

~end

 


End file.
